Ordeal
by quiller
Summary: Gordon's hydrofoil accident proves to be a harrowing ordeal for the whole family. Complete story
1. Chapter 1

Ordeal  
  
Author's notes. 1)The dateline for this story is 2063 - just over two years before International Rescue becomes operational. (all dates, ages and known details of Gordon's accident taken from the Chris Bentley 'Complete book of Thunderbirds').  
  
2) The one liberty I have taken with established text is to give Jeff a source for his money. The Tracy Transport Corporation has a reputation for developing and backing safe forms of transport (land, sea or air) - hence his interest in the monorail system in 'Brink of Disaster'. Think of Boeing, plus Amtrak, plus Cunard and you get the idea.  
  
3) I have given this a PG rating as I have gone into quite a bit of detail on the medical side. I have tried to make the medical information as accurate as possible, but any errors are mine alone. If you are the sort of person who can't watch 'Casualty' or 'ER' you may want to skip some bits!  
  
Finally, standard disclaimer: My acknowledgement to Carlton plc as the copyright holders of the characters, and my thanks to Gerry Anderson and co. for creating them  
  
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Chapter One  
  
Gordon woke to see the early morning sunlight of a bright June day coming through the chinks in the blind, illuminating the cracks and lines on the ceiling in a pattern he had come to know as well as the faces of his family. No-one was stirring yet, and his head felt clear for the first time. Good - he wanted both a bit of privacy and a clear mind for his first experiment. Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hand where it lay on the covers and concentrated hard. Nothing. 'Come on, Gordon' he thought to himself, 'You've been doing this all your life'. Another deep breath, this time using every ounce of willpower he possessed. and slowly, ever so slowly, he could see the fingers starting to inch towards his palm. The sweat was standing out on his forehead as the muscles made their unaccustomed effort. Success!! Gordon felt like shouting out loud as he lay back, exhausted. On his chest his right hand lay curled into a fist - his first movement in over two months.  
  
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Back in April, Colonel David Brady, head of NASA operations was sitting in his office late one afternoon, just about to pack up for the day when the intercom buzzed. "Jefferson Tracy on the line for you, sir" said his secretary.  
  
" Great, put him through". The friendly greeting he was about to give his former astronaut buddy dried on his lips when he saw Jeff's ashen face. "Jeff, what's the matter?"  
  
"David, I need a favour," replied Jeff, his voice even gruffer than usual. "I need to talk to John on the space station. Gordon's been in an accident and I want him to hear it from me before he sees it on the news broadcasts. He was representing the WASPs in the round-island race at Hawaii when his hydrofoil crashed so it's bound to have been filmed"  
  
"Yes, of course I'll arrange the call. Are you still at home? I think I've got your number here"  
  
"Yes, I'm calling from the island. I'll be leaving for Hawaii as soon as I've managed to contact all the boys. Look, David, I'm very grateful for this. I feel bad about cadging favours from an old friend."  
  
"Don't worry about it Jeff - I know how much those boys mean to you. Besides I'm only doing what I would do for any member of the crew on my space station - all you've done by coming straight to me is cut through about three layers of red tape." He looked at his friend. "John's only just started this tour of duty - he's not due back down for another three weeks. Do you want me to bring him home early? I can do that on compassionate grounds."  
  
Jeff swallowed hard, trying to contain his emotions. "Can we leave that until I see how things are at the hospital?"  
  
"Sure" replied David. "Now I'll ring off now and call you back when I get down to the Operations room".  
  
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In the International Space Station, Captain Jenny Lund was doing her turn in the control room when the signal light blinked to indicate a call was coming through from Houston. "Jenny here" she responded (things were pretty easy going after a week on the station).  
  
"Hallo there, Jenny," came the reply. "This is Colonel Brady".  
  
"Good afternoon, sir," replied Jenny, mentally cursing herself. It was not every day that the Big Chief himself came on the line.  
  
"Relax, Jenny", came the reply. "This isn't official business. I just need to have a word with John Tracy - is he around?"  
  
"He's outside at the moment, sir," said Jenny, using the spaceman's slang for EVA. "Do you want me to patch you through?"  
  
"Yes, please. And when you do, please cut yourself out. This is a private matter."  
  
Jenny thumbed another switch to open the circuit to the EVA crew. "John, I've got a call for you from 'downstairs'".  
  
Inside John's helmet there was a click, then a familiar voice saying "John? This is David Brady"  
  
"Hallo, Uncle" said John, much surprised.  
  
"Hallo, son. What are you up to out there?"  
  
John replied, "We're fixing up a new antenna. The old one was picking up interference, so we've made some modifications."  
  
Brady's voice came in reply. "I'd like you to stop what you're doing for a moment and tether yourself. I've got your father on the line here, and I want you to listen to what he has to say without drifting off. Let me know when you're ready"  
  
While he had been listening John was already hooking a line to a convenient handhold. "Ready now, sir."  
  
John heard Brady's voice saying, "OK, Jeff, you're through now" then another click. "John? Can you hear me?" came his father's gruff voice.  
  
"Loud and clear, Dad. What's up? Is something wrong?"  
  
There was a pause. "Gordon's been in an accident. He's in hospital"  
  
John inhaled sharply. "Is it bad?"  
  
"Pretty bad, son. They reckon his hydrofoil was doing more than 400 miles an hour when it crashed. He's been taken to the Kane Hospital at Honolulu. The doctors say the next few days will be critical. I'm flying straight to the hospital as soon as I can. The other boys are meeting me there."  
  
"I wish I could be there too, Dad."  
  
"I'm sure you do, son. David has offered to have you brought home if necessary, and meanwhile he's given authorisation for me to contact you at any time, so I'll let you know how things are going".  
  
"Thanks, Dad. Give my love to all the boys, and especially to Gordy."  
  
"I will, son."  
  
Another click inside his helmet indicated the transmission had ceased. John felt a touch on his arm. He turned to see Abi, the second member of the EVA team. "John, it was an open circuit. We heard. I'm so sorry - that's one of your brothers, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," said John, starting to unhook himself, "but I suppose we'd better finish this job now."  
  
"You stay where you are, John Tracy" came the voice of Greg, the EVA team leader. "EVA work requires concentration, and your mind is not exactly on your work right now. We're nearly finished here anyway, so you just sit tight".  
  
John sat, or rather floated, and looked at the Earth turning below him. The chain of islands that made up Hawaii were just coming over the horizon. It would be early afternoon there. He had been thinking this morning that this was the day of Gordon's big race, but with all the rush to get this antenna relay ready it had since slipped from his mind. The thought of Gordon being injured was hard to bear. 'Stop that', he told himself firmly. Crying in a space suit was never a good idea.  
  
Another touch on his arm from Abi interrupted his reverie. "We're ready to go in now," she said. "Would you like me to go on ahead and tell the rest of the crew?"  
  
"Thanks, Abi" he replied. "That would be a great help. I think I'll just go straight to my cabin." Abi watched him go ahead, wishing there was something she could do for him.  
  
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By the time Jeff and his sons had all arrived at the hospital, the surgeons had already been working on Gordon for a couple of hours. A nurse showed them to a window from where they could see into the operating theatre. She pressed a switch "Dr Ferguson, I've got your patient's father here."  
  
A tall, dark skinned man looked up. "You'll excuse me if I don't stop, Mr Tracy" he said.  
  
"How's my son, doctor?" asked Jeff.  
  
"Well the good news is that he's still alive - though that's a miracle in itself. I gather he was wearing some new type of body armour when he crashed."  
  
"Yes, it was designed by a young man who works for me," answered Jeff, sending a silent thanks to Brains, who, not trusting the safety of the WASP craft, had insisted Gordon wear it.  
  
The doctor looked up. "Well, whoever he is, I suggest you give him a bonus. He saved your son's life. Without that, Gordon's ribcage would have imploded, crushing his heart and lungs. As it is, the ribs remained intact, also the spine, so we think he should be able to walk again, provided there isn't any nerve damage further down. His skull was also protected by the crash helmet, but that's the extent of the good news. Practically every other bone in his body is in fragments - we're piecing him together at the moment like a jigsaw puzzle. But the main problem is going to be the internal bleeding. Almost every internal organ has suffered impact damage. We're patching up what we can, but most of the damage is at cellular level. We're giving him blood transfusions, but it's a case of stopping the bleeding long enough for the organs to recover."  
  
"Is there anything we can do to help?"  
  
The surgeon looked up. "Well, you all look fit and healthy - you can go down to the blood donor unit tomorrow morning and give blood. It doesn't matter what blood type you are - it will all help someone."  
  
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An hour later the family were all sitting around, staring moodily into empty coffee cups, when a woman approached. "Mr Tracy? I'm Maria Cole, Dr Ferguson's administrative assistant. He's asked me to come and have a word with you."  
  
Jeff was on his feet in an instant "Gordon." he began.  
  
She put her hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Mr Tracy. The operation is still going on. The doctor said you offered to help if you could. Well, I understand you have some influence in air transport."  
  
"That's right," said Jeff (who last time he had looked owned about 20 of the stock on the U.S. commercial registry). "How can that help?"  
  
"There's a piece of equipment we need called a cryogenic tank. It's an experimental technique and there are only about half a dozen in the country. It works by reducing the body's temperature, which hopefully will slow down the internal bleeding. The nearest available one is in Chicago at the moment. We can get it on a commercial flight tomorrow morning, but ideally the doctor would like to put your son in it as soon as he finishes the operation."  
  
"How soon do you need it here?"  
  
"The doctor reckons they should be finished in another eight hours"  
  
"Can you give me an office with a phone? I've got some calls to make."  
  
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Two of the hospital staff were walking past an office and heard a voice on the phone "I don't care about penalty clauses - I want it done tonight!"  
  
One said, "What's going on in there?"  
  
Her colleague replied, "That must be that millionaire guy whose son was in the boat race crash. It must be nice to be so rich that you just have to say 'jump' and people just ask 'how high'"  
  
"Don't be so cynical" replied her friend. "How many parents do we get in here who would love to be able to move heaven and earth to help their children? The only difference is this one can!"  
  
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While Jeff was making his calls, Scott and Virgil were talking. "Presumably we'll have to sort out some accommodation soon" said Scott. "When Dad gets back I'll ask if he wants me to arrange a hotel."  
  
"Yes, and you'd better get some change of clothes as well." Virgil looked down at Scott's USAF flying overall and boots. "You can't go round like that for long in this climate".  
  
"That's true. I was out on a training exercise when the call came through from Dad - they patched it straight through to my aircraft. Then my CO came on the line and told me to turn my plane round and head straight for Hawaii."  
  
"Well I was in the workshop with some of my colleagues working on Bertha" replied Virgil. Scott nodded - he had heard all about Virgil's end-of-year engineering project to renovate an antique steam locomotive. "I had time to wash and change while I was waiting to hear from Alan about picking him up, so I managed to throw a few things in a bag."  
  
Alan sat in the corner, pale and quiet, for once hoping his older brothers would not include him in the conversation. It looked like he had been the only one watching the live broadcast when the accident happened. Some of his college buddies had come over for the afternoon with beer and popcorn to make an event of the race. As Gordon's boat spun out of control one of them muttered a fervent "Jesus H. Christ!" then a hush had descended on the room. When his father had phoned Alan had been in the bathroom, throwing up. Even now, the memory of the craft ricocheting across the water like a cannonball, pieces flying off in all directions, was enough to make him want to heave again.  
  
Jeff came back into the room, wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. "Well, I've had to call in practically every favour I'm owed in the business, but that equipment will be landing at the airport in six hours time."  
  
"Do you want Virgil and I to go and collect it for you?" said Scott.  
  
"Thanks, son" replied Jeff. "I've also given Ms Cole my private number in case this sort of thing happens again. The next parent who needs it might not have his own fleet of aircraft. You know, boys" he glanced at his sons "This is another thing we could be doing when we start. operations". The three boys nodded. They were used to the way their father referred to his planned rescue business when not in private.  
  
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Up on the space station, John was lying on his bunk, staring at the wall at the foot of the bed when he heard a quiet tap on the door. "Come on in" he called.  
  
The door opened to reveal Abi, carefully carrying two steaming mugs. The residential section of the station rotated to give the effect of one third gravity - enough to keep liquid in cups, but you had to move with care or it tended to slop out.  
  
"You didn't turn up for supper, so I thought you might like a hot drink," Abi said. "Aunt Abi's special recipe - Horlicks and nutmeg from my own personal supply"  
  
"And I suppose you've slipped a Micky Finn in it as well," said John, teasing.  
  
"Well, someone did suggest that, but Jenny vetoed the idea, so I volunteered to come in and bore you senseless instead" she replied. "Besides, there's something I wanted to ask you"  
  
John swung his legs round so she could sit down on the bed next to him. Not that there was much choice in the matter - each cabin only had space for a bed and a cupboard for personal belongings. "What's that?"  
  
"Is David Brady really your uncle?"  
  
"Did I say he was?" John replied, warily.  
  
"Yes, when he first came on the radio - you said 'Hallo, uncle'"  
  
"Oops" replied John, "I'm not supposed to do that when I'm on duty."  
  
"He didn't seem to mind. Well, is he?"  
  
"No, he isn't a real uncle, but he's known me and my brothers since we were small, so I suppose you'd say he was a sort of honorary uncle. He and Dad go way back, to their service days together" He glanced at Abi, who was looking puzzled, "You do know I'm Jefferson Tracy's son, don't you?" Looking at her face again he went on, "OK, maybe you didn't. It's not exactly a secret - I just don't go round making a fuss about it. I don't want people to think I got this job because of family connections."  
  
"John Tracy, no-one who has worked with you for more than ten minutes will ever think that" said Abi, firmly.  
  
"There's a picture of Dad here" he said, pointing to the wall at the foot of the bed. Abi turned to look. She'd been concentrating on John when she came in, so hadn't noticed that the wall was covered in big, glossy photographs. One group was nature scenes - a sunset over the ocean, a leaping dolphin, a hummingbird feeding from an exotic looking flower, a spider's web picked out with dew. Another was action shots - one showed a fighter plane flying inverted, another a dark-haired young man playing the piano with a rapt expression on his face, a third showed a diver leaping from a cliff, and a fourth a blonde boy giving a cheery grin to the camera as he stepped backwards over a cliff in abseiling gear. John however was pointing to a couple of smaller, group shots. "This is my father with me and my grandmother" he said pointing to one, "and if you look at this one" (pointing to a group shot of five boys and a girl with Asian features) "you can see me with my brothers. A lot of people think my eldest brother Scott looks just like Dad did at the same age"  
  
"Yes" said Abi "I can see the resemblance." She paused. "Which one - ?"  
  
John pointed to a young man in the photograph with auburn hair, who had been laughing as the picture was taken. "That's Gordon. But if you want to know what he's really like then this will give you a better idea" He pointed to the picture of the diver. "I tried to catch my brothers all doing the things they love most."  
  
"You took all these? They're wonderful"  
  
"Yes, it's a hobby of mine. That one of Gordon is one I'm really proud of. It took about a week of trying to get exactly the right effect" The photograph had been taken at sunset, when the light was just leaving the top of the cliff, but had still caught the diver arched at the top of a beautiful swallow dive. The sunlight had given his body a golden glow, and made his hair a fiery red. "Luckily for me, Gordon was quite happy to carry on climbing up that cliff and diving off the top until I was satisfied. He's always at his happiest when he's in the water - swimming, diving, scuba diving, water ski-ing, windsurfing or any sort of boat. He was swimming when he could barely walk." John pointed to the group picture again. "Virgil, my middle brother, tended to follow Scott around, so when he was born, I started to keep an eye on Gordy. I was the one who'd pick him up if he fell over, the one he came to if he was upset, or being teased by the older boys at school - and I should be there for him now!" John pounded on the bed with his clenched fists. "I just feel so helpless!" The tears began to pour down his cheeks.  
  
Abi put her arm round his shaking shoulders. "I'm sure your brothers are feeling just as bad, even though they are there with him. It's up to the medical staff now. You all just have to wait and that is the hardest thing to do" She held him tight, rocking to and fro as if he was a small child. They stayed like that for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
It was the early hours of the morning by the time the operation was over and the family had their first sight of Gordon. They were met at the door of the intensive care unit by a small, blonde woman with an air of brisk efficiency. "Hallo", she said, "I'm Glenda Norris. I'm the nurse who'll be 'specialing' Gordon while he's in ICU. I'm letting you all in to see him now so I can explain everything to you, but after this I'm afraid we have quite strict rules in this ward. Because of all the equipment each patient needs we can only have two visitors to each bed." She paused. "As there are four of you I suggest you sort yourself out some sort of rota."  
  
Jeff looked at his sons. "You boys sort it out between you. I'm staying here." The boys glanced at each other and nodded. They knew better than try to argue with their father when he used that particular tone of voice.  
  
Glenda led them over to part of the ward where a large white box stood, surrounded by various pieces of equipment. "As you see" she said, "he's already been put in the cryo tank. This means we can reduce his heart rate to about 20 beats per minute, and lower his blood pressure."  
  
The family peered through the clear plastic lid. Alan swallowed hard, Scott turned several shades paler. Virgil's first thought was 'It's a good job John can't see this - it would break him'.  
  
The only recognisable feature of Gordon was the colour of his hair. His face was battered and swollen, his body a mass of livid bruises, with tubes and wires attached at various points. Most horrifying was the fact that all his limbs and pelvis were surrounded by a steel frame holding pins that went directly into his flesh, like some medieval instrument of torture. Glenda spoke. "Let me explain what you are seeing. The bruising on his face and body is what we call deceleration bruising - that's when the outside of the body stops but the internal parts are still moving. There were some bones broken in his face from the impact on the inside of his crash helmet, but they've been reset. The body braces on his limbs are holding the broken pieces of bone in place so they can knit together The tubes you see are for intravenous feeding, also we have him on an artificial liver and kidney dialysis. This is all to take the strain off his internal organs while they recover."  
  
Jeff sat down in the chair next to the bed. Right now he didn't think his legs would carry him anyway. "Right", he said, "who's taking the first shift with me?"  
  
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By mid-afternoon Virgil was on duty. His father had just popped out to grab a coffee when Glenda came back onto the ward. She came up to the bed and turned to address Gordon. (She always did this with her patients, whether they were conscious or not, and encouraged their visitors to do the same). "Well, Lieutenant Tracy, you are a popular young man it seems".  
  
Virgil looked up. "What makes you say that?"  
  
She turned to him. "I've just been having my tea-break in the canteen, and talking to my friend Pat who works in the blood donor unit. You probably met her this morning when you were down there" Virgil nodded, fingering the plaster on his arm. "Anyway, she tells me they've been rushed off their feet today. More than 200 people from the WASP base have come in to give blood. She reckons they must be coming over from Pearl Harbour by the busload!"  
  
"That is a lovely gesture," replied Virgil. "I know Dad phoned the base this morning to let them know how Gordon was doing. He will be touched to hear that."  
  
"We've always had close connections with the naval base" continued Glenda, "which is only appropriate really".  
  
Virgil looked at her quizzically.  
  
"You know why this is called the Kane Hospital?"  
  
"I hadn't really thought about it. I presumed it was named after some guy called Kane."  
  
Glenda shook her head. "Kane is the Hawaiian god of light and life - which is why the hospital was named after him - but he's also the god of water."  
  
Virgil turned to the figure in the bed. "You hear that, Gordy? You're being looked after by a water god!"  
  
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After five days things had settled into almost a routine. The boys took over from each other at four hour intervals, while Jeff stayed in his chair, grabbing meals when he could and cat-napping when he could no longer stay awake. Late one evening, Scott was sitting by the bedside when Glenda and one of the doctors approached carrying some printouts. The doctor addressed Jeff. "Mr Tracy, I have to warn you, I think we are approaching a crisis here."  
  
"What's gone wrong?" asked Jeff, concerned.  
  
"It's not a case of anything going wrong. Let me try to explain. When a body is injured it starts to repair itself. It produces a mass of white blood cells, and one of their functions is to absorb the damaged cells and take them away, so the body can then grow new ones to repair the damage. These damaged cells are dead matter, and need to be removed from the system as soon as possible or they become a toxin - poisoning the system. When a person is as badly injured as Gordon, theses toxins can build up to dangerous levels. We've been monitoring his blood, and the levels are approaching danger limits."  
  
"Can't you give him anything to stop it?"  
  
"We're giving him as much as we think he can take at the moment. There's nothing more we can do. Quite simply, sometimes a body is so badly injured that it decides it can't fight any longer and just gives up. This is a difficult question, Mr Tracy, but I have to ask, for legal reasons. Bearing in mind that Gordon might have suffered brain damage, that he might not be able to walk again - if his heart stops beating, do you want us to resuscitate him?"  
  
"Not my son!" Jeff exclaimed, smashing his fist into the palm of the other hand. "Tracys never give up - and don't you dare give up on him either!" He stormed off to stand looking out of the window, with his back to the room.  
  
The doctor turned to leave, but Glenda remained. "I'm sorry about that", Scott said. "This is all very hard for Dad. He's not like that usually."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Scott" replied Glenda, "We see all sorts of things in here".  
  
"If - " Scott paused, not sure how to go on.  
  
"If his heart does stop?" prompted Glenda.  
  
"Yes" went on Scott, relieved, "What happens? Is there anything we should do?"  
  
Glenda pointed to one of the pieces of equipment, where a black screen was crossed by a line that jerked in a spike every few seconds. "That's the electrocardiograph that is monitoring Gordon's heartbeat. If his heart stops, it will sound an alarm. At that point you'll have a medical team rushing at you from all directions, so don't get in their way." She put a hand on his arm. "One thing you can do at that point is keep talking to your brother. It is amazing what a patient is aware of, even under those circumstances. I've had patients who were technically dead, but after we've resuscitated them they've been able to tell me not only what was being said, but who was standing where and even what they were wearing!"  
  
She turned to leave, and Scott settled back into his chair. His father returned and sat down, but when Scott glanced across at him, one look at his face told Scott he was not in the mood for conversation As the hours ticked by Scott found himself almost mesmerised by watching the ECG. Jeff had fallen into a doze, but Scott was unable to take his eyes off the screen. How could a little green dot running across a black screen, forming a blip in the middle, determine someone's life? Especially someone as vibrant and complex as Gordon.  
  
Line. Blip. Line.  
  
As he watched the screen, each blip seemed to summon up an image from Gordon's life.  
  
Line. Blip. Line.  
  
Gordon as a toddler, running after John, pleading, "Swim! Swim!", too young to understand, as his older brothers did, that they were not allowed in the pool unless an adult was present.  
  
Line. Blip. Line.  
  
An adolescent Gordon, holding his sides and laughing as his older brothers fell victim to yet another of his practical jokes.  
  
Line. Blip. Line.  
  
Fifteen year-old Gordon flashing through the water at his first U.S. Junior championships to win the gold, beating older and stronger boys.  
  
Line. Blip. Line.  
  
A very grown-up looking Gordon in his dress uniform at passing out parade as he graduated as a full member of the WASPs.  
  
Line. Line. Line. Line. Line.  
  
Scott was on his feet, dragging his father with him to stand at the head of the bed, before the alarm sounded.  
  
"What the." exclaimed Jeff.  
  
Four medical staff were running towards them, one pulling a trolley laden with equipment. Glenda flung open the lid of the cryo tank, wisps of vapour forming from the cold air. She glared at Scott. "If you love your brother, talk to him!"  
  
"Gordon", Scott could hear the panic in his own voice. "Gordon, hang in there. Don't leave us. Don't go."  
  
Jeff joined in "Gordon, come on, fight! Don't give up!"  
  
Meanwhile the medical team were in a frenzy of activity. "I can't get enough pressure to do chest compressions," said one nurse "I can't reach far enough into this damn tank."  
  
"Here" said a second one, "I'm taller, let me try" and he reached over and started pounding on Gordon's chest in a regular rhythm.  
  
"We can't use the electro-shock paddles with all this metalwork he's got in him," said the doctor. "I'll just have to try adrenaline." Picking up a needle she plunged it directly through Gordon's chest, straight into his heart.  
  
At the sight of this, Jeff's control broke. "DAMMIT, GORDON" he roared, "DIE ON US NOW AND YOU'LL NEVER GET THAT ONE-MAN SUBMARINE!"  
  
Blip.  
  
"Hold on, folks" called one of the nurses, "I think we've got an output." Everyone held their breath and stared at the monitor.  
  
Blip. Blip. Line. Blip. Line. Line. Blip. Line. Line. Blip. Line.  
  
"OK, team" said the doctor, "It looks like he's back with us again. Well done everybody." The staff packed up their equipment and moved away, congratulating each other. Jeff moved round so he was facing Gordon, and stood there with his hand on his son's chest, as if he had to feel for himself that the heart was beating once again. "Dad" said Scott. He touched his father's shoulder. "Dad, the nurse needs to close the tank now." Reluctantly, Jeff removed his hand and turned away.  
  
Glenda finished closing the tank, then turned towards Jeff. "Mr Tracy" she said firmly, "you look exhausted. Go back to your hotel and get some rest." Jeff opened his mouth to protest but she continued "If you carry on like this you'll end up a patient here too, and you'll be no use to your son then. Go and get some sleep.- I don't want to see you on this ward again for another ten hours."  
  
Scott held his breath and waited for the explosion. No-one talked to Jeff Tracy like that. But to his utter astonishment, Jeff muttered a meek "Yes, Ma'am" and turned and left the ward. Scott turned to Glenda in amazement. "You do realise that's one of the most powerful men in the country that you have just packed off to bed like a ten-year-old schoolkid?"  
  
She shrugged. "I wouldn't care if it was the World President himself. If he looked like that I would still send him to bed." She turned to Scott. "And how are you feeling, Scott Tracy?" she looked closely "You still look a bit shaken up".  
  
"I still feel it," said Scott. weakly, "I've been in dangerous situations myself before now, but I've never faced anything like that."  
  
"Yes," agreed Glenda "the first time you pull someone back from the dead it can be a bit daunting".  
  
"Pull someone back." repeated Scott. "Yes, I suppose you did"  
  
"We all did," replied Glenda, firmly. "You helped, too. Sometimes I feel I'm personally standing between my patient and the guy with the scythe, saying 'No, you can't take this one, I won't let you'. Of course" she added sadly "I don't always win, but when I do I realise that's why I like working on this unit."  
  
Scott looked at her, for once realising that the uniform and efficient manner concealed a very spiritual person. "You'd enjoy meeting my brother John. He's always coming out with things like that."  
  
She pushed him towards the chair. "Get some rest, Scott. Virgil will be along soon, but there won't be any more crises tonight"  
  
"How can you be sure of that?"  
  
She turned to look at the figure in the bed. "Because Gordon has made his choice now. He's chosen to stay and fight - he's chosen to live. It's still going to be a long struggle, but the worst is over now" With a final pat on Scott's arm she turned and left.  
  
Scott leaned forward and whispered to the still form of his brother "Thank you, Gordy".  
  
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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Glenda was right. From that night on, Gordon's condition improved, slowly but surely. The toxin levels in his blood tapered off, and after another five days the doctors turned off the liver and kidney machines to see if his body could cope on its own. Two days later he was removed from the cryo tank and transferred off intensive care into a side room on the orthopaedic ward. However, he still remained in a coma and the family were encouraged to talk to him, read him books and play his favourite music. John transmitted a tape down from the station with his own 'wake up' message on it. The family was still phoning John morning and evening to report on Gordon's progress. On the station, the crew had grown accustomed to these times, and tried to leave John on his own in the control room to give him some privacy. Tonight Virgil had made the call. "We've been reading him _'20,000 leagues under the sea'_ today," he told his brother. "I know that was one of his favourite books when he was a kid."  
  
"You could always try _'Swallows and Amazons'_ next," suggested John. "That was another one he enjoyed. I had another idea this morning. You know I mentioned there being dolphins in the bay on the tape I sent down?"  
  
"Yes, I thought that was brilliant, knowing how fascinated he is by them."  
  
"Well, maybe you could get hold of some recordings of dolphins. The WASPs might have some, or even Sea World."  
  
"Great idea - I'll see what we can do in the morning." He paused. "Oh, John, it gets so frustrating. Sometimes he moves his head, or mutters to himself as if he's dreaming, but he just won't wake up. I feel I want to shout at him, shake him, throw a bucket of water over him - anything to get a response. Glenda, the nurse who looked after him in intensive care, came down today to see how he was. She says sometimes if a person has been through as much as Gordon has then it's as if their mind has retreated so far inside themselves that they can't find the way out." He continued, "I don't know how much longer Dad will let us stay here - this could go on for months, and now Gordon is out of danger he might want Alan and me to get back to our studies."  
  
"Well I'll be down in a week, and I'll have a whole month off, so if necessary I could take over."  
  
"Thanks, John. Well, goodnight then" Virgil signed off, leaving John staring blankly at the control panel. He left the control room, calling goodnight to the rest of the crew as he walked past the lounge, and went to his cabin. As he got ready for bed he was thinking about what Virgil had said about Gordon being lost inside himself, unable to find his way out. 'How do you help anyone out of that?' he mused.  
  
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Down in the hospital, Jeff and Alan sat by Gordon's bedside, talking in low voices. Up on the space station, John slept, and dreamed. In his dream he could see himself floating above the Earth. He turned to see the space station nearby, glittering in the sunlight. He was looking for something. No, not something, someone. His brother. 'Gordon' he called, 'Gordon, where are you?'  
  
In the distance, a tiny speck. 'Gordon, is that you? What are you doing over there? We've been looking for you. Come on, kiddo, come over here.'  
  
The figure of Gordon approached. 'Where are we?' he said.  
  
'We're in space' replied John. 'Look, you can see my space station'  
  
'Oh' said Gordon, 'I often wondered what it looked like'. He looked down at himself. 'If we're in space, why aren't we wearing space suits?'  
  
'Because this is a dream' responded John.  
  
'Oh, well, that's all right then' Gordon paused, then wrapped his arms around himself, looking uneasy. 'Johnny, I don't like it up here - can we go somewhere else?'  
  
'Sure' replied John. 'Anywhere you like. Why don't we go to the caverns under the island? You always like it there.' At once the scene changed and they were swimming through the undersea caverns. This time, John noted, they were wearing scuba gear. Well, now they were in Gordon's world. 'Why don't we swim out into the open sea?' suggested John. 'I like to see all the colours on the corals'  
  
'Good idea' replied Gordon.  
  
'OK, well you lead the way - I don't know my way around these caverns as well as you do'.  
  
Gordon swum ahead through a series of caverns. A couple of times he seemed to falter, but the calming presence of his elder brother reassured him and he soon picked up the trail again. After a while they reached a point where daylight could be seen filtering in through the cave mouth. Once out in the open sea, John looked up. 'Look' he said 'There's a boat up there, and isn't that Dad leaning over the edge? Let's swim up and surprise him'. They swam towards the surface. As it got brighter, John paused. 'You go ahead, Gordy, I'll catch you up. Just swim towards Dad, he'll help you out.'  
  
Down in the hospital, Alan was watching the monitors closely. "There's definitely a lot more brainwave activity, Dad. Try calling to him."  
  
Jeff leant over the bed, "Gordon! Gordon, can you hear me?"  
  
"Again, Dad, there was definitely a response that time!"  
  
"Gordon!" Jeff put his hand on his son's shoulder and gave it a little shake. "Come on now son, time to wake up"  
  
To his amazement, Gordon's eyes opened. "Dad? What are you doing here?" He paused, then a look of concern crossed his face. "Dad, what's wrong? I can't move." He blinked, hard, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
Jeff tried to sound reassuring. "It's all right. son. You've been in an accident. You're in hospital" He called over his shoulder to Alan. "Pass me a cloth - I want to wipe his eyes".  
  
Gordon looked over his father's shoulder blurrily and saw a blond head. "John?"  
  
"No, it's me, Alan," said his younger brother, coming closer.  
  
Gordon looked round the room, confused. "Where's John? He was with me a minute ago"  
  
Jeff and Alan looked at each other. "No, John's up on the space station", said Alan. "But we've been playing you a tape of his voice - maybe that's what you heard".  
  
Jeff spoke again. "Do you remember what happened, son? The race?"  
  
Gordon thought for a minute. "I crashed, didn't I?" He paused, "Did anyone else get hurt?"  
  
"No," replied Jeff, smiling at his son's concern, "only you." He looked across at Alan. "Do you want to go and call Scott and Virgil?"  
  
"Good idea. What about John?"  
  
Jeff looked at his watch. "No, they'll all be asleep on the station by now. If we phone in the middle of the night John will assume the worst. Good news can wait till morning."  
  
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A few minutes later the door crashed open as Scott and Virgil pounded into the room, skidding to a stop at the bedside. "Well, hallo there, sleepyhead," said Scott, ruffling Gordon's hair, "You finally decided to wake up, did you?"  
  
At that moment one of the nursing staff entered and came over to the bed. "Good evening, Lieutenant Tracy. Glad to have you with us at last. I'm the ward nurse, Tessa Barrett. My monitors told me you were awake so I thought I'd better come and check up on you. How do you feel? Is there any pain?"  
  
"No." said Gordon, shaking his head, "In fact I don't feel anything at all - should I?"  
  
"No, don't worry - we've got you on nerve blocks. Would you like something to drink?"  
  
"Yes, please, my mouth is really dry."  
  
"OK, I'll be back in a minute, and tomorrow after the doctor's seen you we'll see about getting you off that drip and onto some proper food." She turned to the rest of the family. "I'm sure you all want to celebrate now, but please remember it is the middle of the night and other patients are asleep nearby." She went out.  
  
Jeff stood up and stretched. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll go back to the hotel and get some sleep myself." He looked towards the bed. "I'll see you again in the morning, Gordon. Goodnight boys" and with that he turned and left the room.  
  
Scott watched him go. He knew his father was tired - he'd hardly had a proper night's sleep in the last two weeks. But he also expected the Old Man wanted to get away before he lost control. A man like Jeff Tracy would not want his sons to see him cry.  
  
The boys spent the next hour chatting with Gordon, filling him in on all that had been happening. Then Scott looked at his watch and turned to Virgil and Alan. "Why don't you two go and get some rest now, then when Virgil takes over from me I'll get some sleep before I fly back to base tomorrow. They've been good about letting me have so much leave but I suppose I'd better get back soon - they'll be wanting their aircraft back!"  
  
After saying their 'goodnights' the other two boys left the room. Scott settled back in his chair. "What about you, Gordon? Are you feeling tired?"  
  
"You must be joking - from what you all tell me I've had enough sleep lately to last me a month!" replied Gordon.  
  
They carried on chatting, then Scott went out for a few minutes to get some coffee. He returned but as he sat down and looked at his brother he realised something was wrong. Gordon's bruised face was still difficult to read, but he could see the concern in his eyes. "OK, kiddo," he said, "What's bugging you? Come on, you can tell your big brother."  
  
Gordon hesitated, licking his dry lips. "Scott, if I ask you a question, do you promise to tell me the truth?"  
  
"Of course I will," replied Scott, "What is it?"  
  
Gordon paused again. "I can't feel my legs".  
  
"That's because of the medication you're on".  
  
"They - they are still there, aren't they?"  
  
"What!" exclaimed Scott, drawing back in horror.  
  
"I can't feel my legs, I can't move them, I can't even see them" said Gordon, a note of panic in his voice. "I'm scared, Scott, scared the doctors have cut them off and you're all just waiting for the 'right' time to tell me."  
  
Scott leant over the bed so he could look straight into Gordon's eyes. "Gordon Cooper Tracy" he said, slowly and clearly, "I swear to you on our mother's grave that your legs are still there." He glanced down the bed. "Admittedly they're in one heck of a mess, but they are still there." He paused, "Hang on, I've just had an idea. Wait there." He straightened up and turned towards the door.  
  
"Scott" called Gordon.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'm not exactly going anywhere."  
  
Scott thought about what he had just said. "Yes, that was a pretty stupid thing to say, wasn't it?"  
  
"That's what I thought. And Scott?"  
  
Scott turned again, "Yes?"  
  
"Thanks"  
  
Scott was back a few minutes later. "I thought one of the nurses would have a mirror in her purse. Now let me see if I can get the angle right." He squatted down beside the bed, holding up the mirror. "I'd better warn you, you're going to have a shock when you see your face".  
  
As his bruised and battered features came into view Gordon exclaimed "Ugh! Is that what you've all been looking at for the past two weeks? I look like something out of a horror film!"  
  
Scott moved the mirror. "OK, left arm - check. Right arm - check." He lifted the mirror higher. "Left leg - check. Right leg - check. See? All present and correct, Lieutenant."  
  
"Sorry for making such a fuss. I feel a bit of a fool now."  
  
Scott straightened up and patted his shoulder. "No, you were quite right to worry. If it had been me, I don't know if I'd have had the courage to ask."  
  
They carried on chatting, then a bit later there was a tap on the door, and one of the nurses came in. "I'm just going off duty now" she said as she came in.  
  
"Oh, sorry Megan," said Scott, "you'll be wanting your mirror back." He turned to Gordon. "This is Megan, one of the nurses who's been looking after you."  
  
Megan approached the bed. "Nice to meet you at last, Lieutenant Tracy" she said.  
  
"Please, call me Gordon"  
  
"OK then, Gordon. We'll be moving you onto the main ward tomorrow so you'll have a bit of company."  
  
Scott looked at he nurse. "I probably won't see you again for a while. Now that Sleeping Beauty here has woken up, I've got to get back to my squadron. But I will be dropping in now and again, so if this one, " indicating the figure in the bed with a jerk of his head, "gives you any trouble, just remind him that his big brother will be back to sort him out!"  
  
Megan smiled at Gordon. "You won't be any trouble, will you Gordon?"  
  
Scott snorted. "Don't you believe it. He's not known as the joker in the family pack for nothing!"  
  
Gordon started to laugh. "Remember the fried egg?"  
  
Scott winced. "Remember it? I can still smell it!" He turned to Megan. "Gordon had this imitation fried egg he had bought from a joke shop. He kept leaving it lying around everywhere - on the table, on the carpet, in the bath, but most often on my things - my books, my papers, my favourite jacket. Then I came into my room one day to see this egg lying in the middle of my bed."  
  
"It wasn't directly on your bed" interrupted Gordon, "it was on a piece of plastic - that should have given you a clue."  
  
"Well, I was getting pretty tired of this joke by now, so I gave it a swipe and sent it flying - only it wasn't an imitation egg this time - it was a real one. It splattered all down the wall and across the carpet."  
  
"Yes, and Grandma made me clean it up, which wasn't fair. It wasn't me who had made the mess. And I got banned from the pool for a week!"  
  
Megan was laughing. "Right, I can see we're going to have to keep a close eye on you then, young Gordon."  
  
Just then Virgil came in. "OK, Scott, time for you to get your beauty sleep."  
  
Scott turned to Gordon. "I'll drop in to say goodbye in the morning, before I set off."  
  
"OK, Scott, goodnight - and thanks again - for everything."  
  
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The following morning it was Alan who made the call to John. "Where's Dad this morning?" said John, puzzled. Alan didn't usually call, and he sounded like he had some secret joke going on.  
  
"Oh, he's asleep. But there's somebody else here who'd like a word with you. Just let me move the phone a bit closer."  
  
Then another voice came on the line. "Hi, Johnny. Guess who?"  
  
"Gordon?" John could hardly believe his ears. "Gordy? Is that really you?"  
  
"The one and only. I woke up last night."  
  
"Are you OK? How are you feeling?" John hardly knew what to say. After the weeks of worry he could hardly believe he was talking to his brother again.  
  
"Well, I'm a bit of a mess right now, but the docs say I'm going to be all right eventually I had a visit this morning from the surgeon who put me back together. He said next time I decide to hit something at 400 miles an hour I should choose a brick wall - it would do less damage than water."  
  
"That's great, kiddo. I'll be coming down next week, so I'll be over to see you as soon as I can. Meanwhile, you just take care, and give my love to Dad and the boys."  
  
"OK, John. Bye now."  
  
The connection ended and John sat back and looked at the control panel. Then he pressed a button "Houston control here" said a voice.  
  
"Hi there Maxine" said John recognising the voice. "Just thought you'd all like to know, Gordon's awake, and it looks like he's going to be OK."  
  
"That's wonderful news, John," replied Maxine. John heard her repeat the message to her colleagues, and the cheers and good wishes that came in response. "We're all so pleased for you down here."  
  
"Will you tell Uncle - tell the Colonel for me when he gets in?"  
  
"Of course I will, John. Thanks for letting us know."  
  
John left the control room and went to find the rest of the crew, feeling lighter than even one third gravity could account for.  
  
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	4. Chapter 4

Author's note; The hotel mentioned in Gordon's dream actually exists in northern Sweden - I couldn't make up anything that weird!  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Gordon turned his head and used his lips on the switch to turn off the TV. By nature more of a do-er than a watcher, he had probably seen more TV in the past few days than he had so far this year. It seemed ironic that his family had sat around waiting while he was unconscious, then disappeared as soon as he woke up. No, he chided himself, that's not fair - they did all have their own lives to lead. Scott had had to go back to his squadron - but had promised to return the next time he was due some leave. Virgil and Alan had left the day after to return to college, and his father the day after that on business. He'd had a nice surprise yesterday when Grandma and Tin Tin had turned up unexpectedly. Grandma had brought enough cakes and cookies to feed the entire ward, if not the hospital. Tin Tin, looking stunning in a halter neck top and shorts, had given him a kiss that he joked would have brought any red-blooded male back from the dead, let alone a coma. In fact, after they had left, there had been so many ribald comments from some of the other guys on the ward that the head nurse had come out to scold them. Tomorrow John would be back from the space station, and had promised to come on the first available flight. He was looking forward to seeing his favourite brother again.  
  
Something caught Gordon's eye and he pressed another switch to tip the bed up, giving him a better view. A small blond boy, probably about ten years old, in dressing gown and pyjamas, had just entered the ward. The small figure looked round, then avoiding the first bed, which was curtained off, approached the old Indian gentleman in the second bed.  
  
"Good morning, Mr Chandrasekar" he heard the high clear voice say. "How are you today?"  
  
"Not too well, I'm afraid, Sandy" replied the old man. (Gordon was sure his hearing was getting sharper. Lying here day after day, all he could do was watch and listen.) "My knee was hurting last night and kept me awake."  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," replied the small figure. "Would you like me to read to you today?"  
  
"No thank you, Sandy. I think I'll just try to have a nap. Why don't you go and talk to young Gordon over there? I'm sure he'd love to chat to you."  
  
The small form made its way across the room to Gordon, who pressed the switch to return his bed to horizontal, so they were at eye level. "Hallo, I'm Sandy Wilson. Well I'm Jeremy really, but everyone calls me Sandy 'cos of my hair."  
  
"Well, hallo there, Sandy" replied Gordon. "I'm Gordon Tracy, and my brothers call me 'Coppertop' because of my hair."  
  
"Do you mind if I talk to you?"  
  
"No, I'd love to have someone to talk to. Pull up a chair."  
  
Sandy climbed onto the chair, then looked down at Gordon. The tubes had all gone and most of the bruising had faded, but he was still pinned in the body braces. "Hey" exclaimed Sandy. "You're all beat up. Did you fall out of a window? Petey in our ward fell out of a window and he's all beat up like you."  
  
"No, I didn't fall out of a window. I crashed my boat."  
  
"Oh, dear" said Sandy gravely. "Is it going to cost a lot to fix?"  
  
"I don't know, replied Gordon, amused, "it didn't belong to me. It was a WASP boat."  
  
"Are they mad at you for crashing it?"  
  
"They're still trying to make up their minds about that." In fact the inquiry board had already been in to see him, and the remains of the boat were being examined to see whether the crash had been caused by pilot error, or some mechanical fault.  
  
"Would you like to play some games?"  
  
"What sort of games?"  
  
"Well" said Sandy, pulling things out of his pockets, "I've got Ludo, or Snakes 'n' Ladders, or Checkers or Snap."  
  
"OK" said Gordon, "Let's play Snakes and ladders. I haven't played that for years. But you'll have to move for me."  
  
"OK" replied Sandy, "but if you get tired, or you've had enough, you have to tell me and I have to go away. That's the rules, or the nurses won't let me play with you again. They don't mind me in here mainly. They say I'm inker, inker- something"  
  
The game had just started when Tessa came up to the bed. "I see you've met our friend Sandy," she said. "But tell him when you've had enough and he'll go."  
  
"I've already told him that," protested Sandy, turning to Gordon for confirmation. "Didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, you did"  
  
Tessa ruffled Sandy's hair. "Sandy Wilson, you're incorrigible!"  
  
Sandy turned again to Gordon. "See? I told you that as well!"  
  
Later that evening when Megan was giving Gordon his supper he asked, "What's young Sandy in here for? I didn't like to ask him."  
  
Megan put down the spoon and looked at him. "He's got some weird form of cancer that won't respond to normal treatments."  
  
"What are his chances?"  
  
She pulled a face. "About fifty/fifty. That's why he's allowed so much freedom. He's a good kid"  
  
"Yes, he reminds me of my younger brother, Alan at that age."  
  
"Which one is Alan? I never did quite get all your brothers' names sorted out."  
  
"Alan's the blond one."  
  
"Oh, him - Golden Boy."  
  
"What!" said Gordon, laughing.  
  
"Don't tell them, but we nurses had our own names for your brothers. Alan was Golden Boy, and the tall dark one was Prince Charming. The other one, the serious one, I don't think we'd found a name for him yet. I think a few of the staff quite fancied your brothers."  
  
"Well" said Gordon, still laughing, "looks like I woke up just in time!"  
  
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The following day Gordon and Sandy were playing yet another game of Snakes and Ladders when John walked into the ward. "Hi, there, Coppertop," he said, ruffling Gordon's hair. "My, you look a mess!" He had been warned about Gordon's appearance, but it still came as a bit of a shock.  
  
"Yeah," replied Gordon, "well you should see what the other guy looks like!"  
  
Sandy looked up from the game. "Do you want me to go?"  
  
"That's all right, kid," replied John. "You finish your game first".  
  
"John" said Gordon, "this is my friend Sandy. Sandy, this is my big brother, John."  
  
"Hi there, Sandy," said John. He looked down at the board, "Who's winning?"  
  
"I think I am at the moment," said Gordon.  
  
Sandy looked at John, pointing to the insignia over his breast pocket. "You've got 'NASA' on your jacket. Are you an astronaut?"  
  
"That's right, Sandy. I've just got back from the space station. I was there when Gordon had his crash - that's why I haven't been to see him before."  
  
"Hey, that's cool!" exclaimed Sandy. Then he paused and turned to Gordon, accusingly. "You didn't tell me your brother was an astronaut!"  
  
"Didn't he?" cut in John. "Gordon, how could it have slipped your mind! I bet you didn't tell him your father was an astronaut too." He paused, looking at Sandy "Do you know the names of the men on the first expedition to the moon?"  
  
"That's easy," replied Sandy. "David Brady, Lu Sin Cheung and Jefferson Tracy." He paused, turning to Gordon, "Your name's Tracy."  
  
"That's right, and Jefferson Tracy is my father."  
  
"Hey! Megacool! Does he come to visit you? Can I meet him? Just wait till I tell the guys on the ward about this!" Slipping down from his chair he ran out of the room.  
  
Gordon looked at John. "Do you realise just how many games of Snakes and Ladders I will have to play now?" he said, laughing.  
  
"He looks like a fine kid"  
  
"He is. He keeps me entertained. He reminds me a lot of Alan at that age."  
  
"Oh? I'd say he's more like you" He paused. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"I think I'm more bored than anything," replied Gordon. "I haven't laid around this long since that time I had pneumonia as a kid - and I've still got another seven weeks to go."  
  
"Do you remember anything about the crash?" asked John.  
  
"Just fragments, really. I remember spinning out of control and thinking 'This is going to hurt'. Then I was looking at the underside of a helicopter - I suppose I was being winched into it. Next thing I knew I woke up here." He looked at his brother. "You know, I was dreaming about you just before I woke up - we were swimming through the caves under the island."  
  
John shifted in his chair, uneasily. Fragments of his own dream came back to him He was going to have to do some serious thinking about this before he talked about it to anyone. If ever. "That sounds like a funny dream. Had any others?"  
  
"Just one" Gordon hesitated. "I haven't told anyone else about this."  
  
"Well, don't tell me if you don't want to."  
  
"No, I think I need to talk about it to somebody" He paused, "You remember that hotel Dad took us to once in Sweden - the one that's carved into a glacier?"  
  
"Yes I remember. All the rooms are ice, all the furniture too."  
  
"Well, in my dream I was there. I think it must have been when I was in the cryo tank. I was walking along passages and through rooms, but couldn't find the way out. I'd hear voices, but they were always just up ahead, or round the next corner, and when I got there nobody was there. I seemed to have been walking for days. I was getting so tired, I just wanted to rest. Then I came to this doorway and looked in. It was a proper room, with curtains, and a carpet and real furniture. There was a fire burning, and next to it was Mom's favourite chair - you remember, the green one with the embroidered back? It all looked so warm and inviting, I thought I'd just go in and sit down for a few minutes. I sat in the chair, and it was so lovely to rest - I felt warm and relaxed for the first time for ages. Then I realised I could hear voices outside the door. It was Dad's voice, and Scott's. Dad sounded really angry. I looked up and saw that the door was closing. Somehow I knew I had to get out of there before the door closed. I jumped up, and just made it to the door in time. When I got out, Dad and Scott weren't there, and when I looked back the room had gone." He paused. "They told me I died at one point when I was in that cryo tank. Do you think that was it?"  
  
"I don't think we'll ever know the answer to that," replied John.  
  
Gordon lay back, looking up at the ceiling. "I don't think I'd mind dying if that's what it feels like - just being all warm and drifting off to sleep."  
  
"Yeah, well don't go and die on us just yet, will you, kiddo?"  
  
Gordon turned and looked at his brother. "What - when Dad's promised me my own submarine? Are you kidding?"  
  
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	5. Chapter 5

Author's note. In this chapter I would like to acknowledge that the 'Little Mermaid' tag is not mine, but comes from 'Quarantine' by Virgil4ever.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
John stayed at Gordon's bedside every day for the next three weeks, chatting, reading to him or playing games with young Sandy. He quickly volunteered to take over feeding his brother, something Gordon would not have liked any of his other brothers to do, but it felt OK coming from John.  
  
One evening, nearly three weeks later, John had just finished giving Gordon his supper when he looked at his brother. "There's an idea I want to run past you," he said.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Well you know I'm going home tomorrow to see Dad and Grandma for a few days before I head back to the Cape for another month on the station."  
  
"Yes, Scott's coming out the day after to visit me."  
  
"Well how would you like it if I could get leave of absence so I could come back here and be with you again? Or maybe I could even resign, then I could be with you all through your rehab. What do you think about that?"  
  
Gordon lay back and looked straight up at the ceiling. "I think" he said, slowly, "that I would like to have the use of one hand for about thirty seconds."  
  
"Why?" said John, puzzled, "What could you do in thirty seconds?"  
  
"I could punch you on the nose!" Gordon turned his head and glared at his brother. "John Glenn Tracy, you are supposed to be the intelligent one of the family! If that isn't the stupidest, craziest, half-baked notion I've ever heard then I don't know what is!" He took a deep breath, then continued, keeping his voice low. " It's a lovely thought, and I do appreciate it, but there is more going on here than just you and me. Dad's going to need you as a fully trained astronaut. We've both got three other brothers, and there might come a time when any one of us might depend on the skills you are learning now. I can't let you jeopardise all that because your damn fool kid brother can't keep control of his boat!"  
  
"Hey, don't go on about that. You know the inquiry decided that the fault was with the hydraulics controlling one of the hydrofoil blades. There was nothing you could have done to prevent that crash."  
  
"Alright, I won't mention it again if you promise to drop that hare-brained scheme of yours." He looked at his brother. "Deal?"  
  
"OK, it's a deal"  
  
"Right, then we'll say no more about it. What have you brought to read tonight?"  
  
The two boys had been working through all the favourite books of their childhood. John reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a copy of _'Wind in the willows'_. "How about this? Or have you changed your mind that 'there is nothing, absolutely nothing - ."  
  
" - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats" they finished the line together, laughing.  
  
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Gordon endured the next long weeks, punctuated by visits from members of the family, friends from the WASP base, and young Sandy, counting off the days till the detested body brace would be removed. He had been told that it would take another operation to remove all the pins, and the day before this was due he had a new visitor.  
  
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Tracy" said a burly, bearded man. "I'm Brian Curtis, but most of my patients call me Frank. I'm going to be your physiotherapist. May I sit down?"  
  
"Please do - Frank", replied Gordon, "and please call me Gordon."  
  
"OK, then, Gordon. I always like to meet my patients and get to know a bit about them before I start working with them. In your case that's been fairly easy". He paused, "I presume you are the Gordon Tracy who's been winning medals in the U.S. National swimming championships for the last few years?"  
  
"That's me," replied Gordon, grinning. "Do you follow the swimming/"?  
  
"I've got a friend who works in that area. You probably know him - Peter Long?"  
  
"Yes, I know Pete. I think I've even got a card from him somewhere," answered Gordon, looking round at the mass of cards that covered the wall beside his bed. "Great guy. You know him?"  
  
"Yes, we did our basic training together, then he went into the sports side of physiotherapy and I went into rehab." Frank paused. "Often with my patients I have to find some goal to motivate them, but it shouldn't be too difficult in your case. I gather we have to get you ready in time for the Nationals next January - and that there is a place in the Olympic team for the following September riding on the results."  
  
Gordon looked at Frank. "Am I going to make it? Be straight with me, please."  
  
"I'm always straight with all my patients. The truth at the moment is that I don't know - yet. Once they've taken all that ironmongery off you tomorrow and I've had a look at the X-rays, I'll have a better idea. If the bones have all knitted together properly and the joints are all true, then the rest is up to you." He paused "I must warn you though, when you wake up after the operation, don't expect to jump out of bed and start running around. It's going to be a long, hard slog. You've been immobilised for over two months: your muscles will have wasted and your joints seized up. We've got a lot of work to do to get you moving again. In fact, don't try to move at all on your own. I had a patient once who'd broken both his legs. The day after we took his casts off he tried to stand up and fell over and broke one of them again, in a different place. He had to go straight back into plaster again."  
  
"Oh, no" said Gordon, trying to smother a laugh. It was an awful tale, but still funny. He changed the subject "How soon can we start?"  
  
"Well, the operation is scheduled for tomorrow. I'll give you a day to get over the anaesthetic, so that means we'll be starting on Thursday. Any more questions?"  
  
"Just one. If your name is Brian, why do people call you Frank?"  
  
Frank grinned. "You'll find out Thursday."  
  
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Thursday morning saw Gordon counting off the hours until he was due to be taken to the physio unit. When he arrived there Frank lifted him easily out of his wheelchair and put him on a couch. "Good morning, Gordon" he said cheerfully. "We've got a lot of work to do today" He looked at his patient. "Have you tried moving yet?"  
  
Gordon looked a bit sheepish, "Well I managed to make a fist this morning", he confessed.  
  
"Good for you! I thought you'd try something. Pete says you are a determined young man - he sends his regards, by the way. How did it feel?"  
  
"Hard work" admitted Gordon.  
  
"Right" said Frank, "Well, we'd better get cracking then!"  
  
Gordon soon found out why Frank had been so named - it was short for Dr. Frankenstein. One of his favoured treatments was electrotherapy - placing pads on the muscles to run electric currents through them. "I know it's old- fashioned," he said, "but it still works. I'm going to start you on just five minutes on each muscle group, then we'll gradually build up later."  
  
The massage that came after was quite pleasant, though at the end Gordon felt like he'd been put through a wringer. However a few minutes of the manipulation that followed next was enough to leave him white and shaking. Frank looked up from where he was working on Gordon's ankle, stopped, and came to the head of the couch. "Gordon", he said gently, "I'm not a sadist, you know."  
  
"No?" said Gordon, still trying to catch his breath.  
  
"Look, this isn't some form of torture. I'm going to need some feedback here. You've got to tell me when you've had enough." He paused "I can usually tell with my adult patients when the air starts turning blue."  
  
Gordon smiled "You won't catch me swearing, Frank."  
  
"No?"  
  
Gordon shook his head. "Ever had your mouth washed out with soap?"  
  
Frank laughed. "No, can't say I have. Who did that? Your father?"  
  
Gordon shook his head. "No, my Grandma."  
  
"She sounds like quite a formidable lady"  
  
Gordon nodded. "She is. But then she had to be, to bring up us five boys."  
  
"OK", said Frank. "We'll start again. And this time let me know when to stop. I'd hate to have your Grandma after me for beating up her grandson!"  
  
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A week later John walked back into the ward, then paused when he saw Gordon's bed was empty. "Hallo there, John" said Tessa, coming up to him. "Nice to see you again. I think you'll find Gordon out in the garden. He likes to sit on the terrace where he can look at the sea." She pointed to a side door. "That's the quickest way."  
  
John stepped outside and stopped. All the times he had visited the hospital before he had never had chance to appreciate the view. Kane Hospital had been built on the heights above Honolulu, giving it a lovely view across the town and out into to the bay. In the distance off to the right he could see the funnels from the ships of the WASP fleet that were moored in Pearl Harbour. He made his way to the terrace, where Gordon was sitting in an electric wheelchair. "Hi there, Gordon" he said, "it's good to see you out of that infernal Iron Maiden". As he spoke, however, he couldn't help but be shocked at his brother's appearance. The matchstick thin arms that protruded from the sleeves of his T-shirt were covered in red pinpricks, and as he bent to embrace his brother he could feel how frail he was, and how little strength there was in the arms that returned his embrace.  
  
"Hi there, John" replied Gordon "You've no idea how good it is. How was your flight?"  
  
"Fine" John sat down next to Gordon's chair. "How's our young friend Sandy?"  
  
"I haven't seen him for a couple of days - he's having some therapy at the moment. He was thrilled with that photo you sent him" John had sent a photograph of himself and the rest of his crew that they had all autographed. "Oh, and he met Grandma last time she was here. She says we were both wrong - he's not me or Alan - he's you!"  
  
"Does she now" said John, amused. He looked down, pointing "What's that on your arm?"  
  
"These?" replied Gordon, fingering the red marks. "That's were the pins were. The doctors tell me they'll fade eventually."  
  
"Glad to hear it - you don't want to spend your life looking like the world's worst junkie. But no, I didn't mean those, I meant this" He touched a loop of ribbon that was tied round Gordon's left forearm.  
  
"Oh, that" said Gordon, pulling on it awkwardly to reveal the other end attached to a small silver harmonica. "That was a present from Virgil. He and Dad were here for my operation, and Virgil had bought me a kid's toy grand piano - he said it would get my fingers working. When Monica, my occupational therapist, saw it she asked if I was musical. I said I played the piano and the guitar a bit, and she suggested I get one of these - it's supposed to help with my breathing. Virgil got it and a book of tunes, and we spent a day working out the notes. Want to hear it?"  
  
"OK, go on then"  
  
"I only play it when I'm out here. I think I overdid it a bit the first day on the ward. By evening the other guys were voting whether to sew my mouth up or put me back in traction" After a few fumbling attempts he managed to bring the instrument to his mouth and play a few bars of 'Clementine' before it slipped from his grasp. "Oh for heaven's sake!" he exclaimed, petulantly.  
  
John looked at his brother closely. This didn't sound like Gordon - there was more going on here than a dropped instrument. "How's the physio going?" he asked gently.  
  
Gordon pulled a face. "Well, it's not the most fun I've ever had. The only good part is when they let me in the pool." He looked at his brother. "Remember at school when the older boys used to call me 'Little mermaid'?"  
  
"Yes, you hated it."  
  
"Well, wouldn't you?" He hesitated "But that's just who I feel like at the moment. When I'm in the water I can move. On land I'm helpless." He looked down "I can't even sit in this chair without being strapped in in case I fall out" He gestured clumsily to the restraining strap across his chest. "Oh, John, suppose I'm stuck in this damn chair for the rest of my life, and have to watch you and the others carrying out the rescue business without me?"  
  
John knelt beside the chair and put his arms round his brother's shoulders. "You won't be there forever, Gordy. You've just got to give it time. You've only been out of that frame for a week, and muscles take time to grow. I should know!"  
  
Gordon looked at his brother in surprise "What do you know about it?"  
  
"Up on the space station we only have one third gravity. When I get back down here I feel as weak as a kitten for the first few days, until my body has had time to adjust. The first morning I woke up back on Earth it felt like I had both Scott and Virgil sitting on my chest!"  
  
"Not both of them!" said Gordon, smiling at the thought of his two strapping brothers.  
  
"Yes, so I know something of how you are feeling." He paused "If they let me, I'll come with you to the pool this afternoon and we can get strong together. How does that sound?"  
  
"OK - it's a deal"  
  
"That reminds me," John looked around to make sure there was no-one within earshot. "Last time I was back home, Brains was showing me his designs for the new space station."  
  
"What does it look like?"  
  
"It's a sort of doughnut shape, with a tube at one side for boarding, and aerials coming out in various directions. He's got this idea for installing gravity plates, and I've told him to make sure they are a full one gravity - I don't want Alan or myself feeling weak every time we return from a month up there, or we won't be able to go out on rescues."  
  
"Did he show you what my craft is going to look like?"  
  
"No, I didn't see any of the others. But I've had an idea I want to talk to you about."  
  
"Well, as long as it's better than the last one you came out with"  
  
John chose to ignore this remark and carried on. "I've always thought that just calling the craft Rescue One, Two and so on just doesn't sound right, somehow." John paused "I've been doing some reading"  
  
Gordon snorted, "Tell me something I don't know -you're always reading something."  
  
"I came across this in a book about native American mythology. The North American Indians worshipped a god who took the form of a mighty eagle. When he flew, the beating of his wings made the sound of thunder. Now, it's not so appropriate for your craft, or mine, but for the others - how does the name 'Thunderbird' grab you?"  
  
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Epilogue  
  
When Gordon won his Olympic medal the following year he asked for two copies of the photograph of himself holding up his medal. One he inscribed 'To Frank - I wouldn't have done it without you' and the other 'To Sandy - now it's your turn'. Gordon kept in touch with his young friend over the years and the whole family were thrilled when Sandy finally applied to NASA and was accepted for the astronaut training programme.


End file.
